Complications
by NoNaMe19Kaneis
Summary: No one can be trusted. No one can know. No one can find out, it would cause too much hurt, too many questions. But when he decides to steal some food from a well known chef, he didn't realize that it would cause a lot more complications than he initially thought. AU. (Also has Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper, and other characters I couldn't fit in the character description.)
1. He Was Hungry

The snow melts as it meets the ground. My old gray boots squish on the pavement at a leisurely pace and my eyes sweep over the busy street, deserted of people but crowded with speeding cars trying to get home before the cold sets in. The foreboding clouds cast a shadow over the houses and shops. The cold begins to settle and I quicken my steps. I'm almost there, just a few more blocks. The brave birds that decided to stay grow quiet, and a tint of blue shades the area. The snow is beginning to stick. They catch on my eyelashes and I have to blink to sweep them away. I snuggle deeper into my hoodie and tuck my hands into my pockets. My clouded breath hits my face and I pop some peppermint gum into my mouth. By now, a steady fall of white continuously covers the ground and I can tell it won't be stopping anytime soon. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the house and I jog up the solid wooden steps to the ornate turquoise door I have grown so accustomed to.

I reach up to ring the bell, hoping someone is home, only for it to swing open in a rapid swoop. The smiling face of my Uncle Nick greets me with so much enthusiasm, it's contagious. I subconsciously match his smile and take off my boots before stepping through the doorway.

"Janus! How're ya doin' kid?" He gives me a hug and ruffles my hair.

The heat is stifling and I suddenly wish I had worn something lighter. I realize the heat is coming from the kitchen, along with the smell of sugar cookies and brownies. I make my way to the kitchen. "I'm fine," I lie. It seems like I've been doing a lot of that lately, I barely give it a second thought. "I'm in the 11th grade, you know?" I smooth out my hair and stand a little straighter.

He just laughs, "Yeah, well you're still a kid to me." Rolling my eyes I open my mouth to retort when I hear a loud _BANG_ of metal hitting metal from the kitchen. Our smiles fall from our faces and we go rigid when we hear the shuffling of feet along with a draft of cold that wasn't there a moment ago. Going along the wall with stealth befitting of a ninja, Uncle Nick makes his way to the kitchen door. He puts his index finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. He glances at the door, then back to me, and holds out his hand in 'do-not-move' gesture. I nod, having no intention of following his orders. I'm not a child, I can handle myself. Uncle Nick is 24, not that much older than I am. It's been a while since someone was bold enough to break into the mansion, the security system must be offline. I'm going to have to ask him about that later.

We're finally at the kitchen entrance and Uncle Nick is poised to attack the intruder. He rushes in with a battle cry and comes face to face with… nothing, or rather no one. The kitchen is deserted and, at a first glance, completely inconspicuous. His wallet is on the counter and Uncle Nick checks to see if his belongings are in order. I study his face for some kind of sign. It changes from stressed to relieved, to confused.

"Everything's in check." He mumbles. He walks to the window and closes it with a click. He looks around some more for any indication of missing belongings. He sighs and turns to me. "Everything's in check." He repeats with confusion.

"Hmm," I say. Something feels off though. Regardless of what I see, I can feel it in my gut that something is amiss. I close my eyes and think, think, think. My eyes snap open in realization and I ask tensely, "Where are the brownies?" He quickly walks over to the oven and opens it to reveal two empty pans littered with brownie and cookie crumbs. Uncle Nick mutters a few curses and closes the oven.

" _OUCH!_ "

Turning our heads, our eyes move to the cabinet under the sink to where the scream came from. The immediate gasp that came next pushes us into action. We run to the cabinet and swing it open to reveal big green eyes of a boy looking up at us in alarm with ruffled orange hair atop his head and in his face. He couldn't be more than nine years old. None of us move and I start to get fidgety. My ADHD must be acting up. I start to notice little things, like the strange scar on his neck and the way Uncle Nick suddenly went still and the soda stain on the sink. When was the last time I took my pills? It was when I got Sherlock when he was only a pup for Christmas. Two years? Yeah, that sounds about right.

My attention is brought back to the current situation when I feel my uncle tense beside me, which automatically puts me on edge. The freckled face that was so startled before has a mask of determination and awareness. He's going to run.

"Now hold on, kid." Uncle Nick says. He holds out his hands in surrender and the kid flinches, his mask falls and he cowers against the wall. Nick quickly puts his hands down and the mask is up again. The kid kicks outward and Uncle Nick steps back in surprise. Once the little thief sees his chance, he lunges towards the window, but when he finds it closed he looks shocked and trapped.

He picks up the closest thing he could find and points it at us threateningly. "Don't come any closer!" He blinks and licks the leftover crumbs off his mouth. He sighs deeply, savoring the taste before his eyebrows scrunch together and his grip on his weapon tightens. Uncle Nick huffs out a breath and starts to move towards him. By now, the kid's full attention is on the possible enemy. "Get away!" He screams and in a swift snatch, his weapon is gone. The kid looks like he's lost all hope.

"A can opener?" Uncle Nick asks. He takes a few steps towards the boy and I stand beside him to close the gap. The kid suddenly bunches into a ball and covers his head. He's terrified, shaking so fast he's almost a blur. Uncle Nick looks lost like he doesn't know what to do next. He looks to me for help and nods towards the cowering, and now sobbing boy. His eyes bore into mine with a silent plea. 'Say something, anything! Please, I'm not good with this kinda thing.'

I take a breath and nod my head. I crouch to the boy's level and reach out my hand, only to retract it when he flinches. "Hey, listen. We're not going to hurt you." He scrambles further into the corner and cries harder, burying his face in his knees and covering his orange hair even tighter. Okay, new plan. "Were you hungry? Is that why you stole the food?" He sniffs and lifts his head hesitantly to look at my face. He bites his bottom lip and returns his head to his knees. I wait for his response and his grumbling stomach gives me one. "Where are your parents?" His head buries deeper into his knees. I do a once over on the boy and notice the dirt on his clothes and the fact that he has no coat and the cuts on his bare feet. "Do you have a home?" My voice drops to a whisper, so he knows this part of the conversation is only between him and I. I'm guessing he doesn't trust Uncle Nick, if his reaction and posture are any indication. The crying is dulled and only a few sniffs escape him. He lifts his head and looks at me in the eye, unblinking in challenge. I nod my head slightly in assurance, then I say, louder this time, "Are you still hungry?"

Uncle Nick sees his opportunity. "Hungry? Is that what this is about?" His posture relaxes and he belts out a deep belly laugh. The kid jumps from the sudden break in tension and relaxes in the slightest bit. "You may have broken into the best house in the neighborhood if you're lookin' for food!" My uncle is the chef. No, not _a_ chef, but _t_ _he_ chef. He started out when he was 16 in his hometown of Fawcett City, under the tutelage of his father, my grandfather, and became well known in the community as the best of the best. Word got out and his clients became more and more well known. Eventually cooking for Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor (not the nicest guy, if Uncle Nick had anything to say about it. In his words, "He was a complete ass. But that would be an insult to asses everywhere"), and catered for some Justice League events. Eventually, he wanted to establish a bigger base of operations for his ever growing business and settled down in Central City, claiming that he chose the place because, "It was in the middle of the country, it's easier to get around if ya know what I mean." Plus he and the Flash got together for "taste-testing parties," which I just knew to mean as eating every leftover cake, pastry and cookie they could find in the workshop's inventory. He always said that the Flash was the only man who could ever out eat him.

The kid doesn't even look remotely surprised by this news, and stands up slowly, stretching out his back. He's calmed down considerably, and although he looks like his guard is lowered, his eyes say otherwise as they flicker across the room and take everything in. I drop my voice. "Relax, we won't call the cops on you for being hungry." He turns slightly to me and searches my face for any sign of deception before relaxing for real and giving me a small smile.

Uncle Nick walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a massive amount leftover cake a customer brought to his shop from the aftereffects of a charity event. The kid goes rigid and his mouth drops open in wonder. Uncle Nick takes it the wrong way and his smile falls. "You don't like cake? Are you allergic to it or something?" He jokes and shifts nervously from foot to foot.

The kid shakes his head and mumbles "It's been a while…" Nick looks at him carefully. "How long is a while?" But the boy just shrugs and walks towards the cake.

His hands are twitching and he licks his lips. Finally, it looks like he can't wait any longer and he starts devouring it in one fell swoop, taking big chunks of it with his bare hand and standing over it as if it would disappear if he wasn't guarding it. Uncle Nick wants to tell the boy to slow down, but the desperate and awed look in the kid's eyes stops him, so he just watches worriedly. I go to the refrigerator to get some water for the boy to drink the cake down with. I can still hear him inhaling the dessert like it's a contest or something. Doesn't the kid need to breath? He should really slow down.

Just when I'm about to speak up, the kid suddenly stops. He looks at the remainder of the cake. What used to be a cake the size of half the table is not about the size of the boy's hand. He looks around until his eyes land on the paper towel. He takes some and carefully wraps it around the cake, stuffing the dessert in his pocket before looking up to see us staring at him. He looks defensive, almost sheepish. "What?" He asks.

Uncle Nick snaps out of it. "You just ate a whole cake in less than a minute." He sounds like he's in awe, and I don't blame him. The kid eats almost as fast as the Flash.

"I have a fast metabolism," His answer sounds automatic and practiced. Uncle Nick nods and goes to the cabinet to take out a container.

"Here, this should make it easier to carry your cake in." The boy hesitantly takes it, gets the cake out of his pocket, and transfers it to the container. Then he turns around and heads for the door. We watch him go and for the first time, I notice the limp in his walk, the howling wind shaking the house, and how dark it is outside. Most of all I notice that the boy has noticed this too. He braces against the cold by pulling the sleeves of his shirt to cover his hands and hiding his mouth and nose in his shirt like a turtle. Before he reaches for the door handle, he pauses and turns to us with a slight smile that reaches his eyes. "Thanks. For the food."

Uncle Nick frowns slightly. "Kid, it's brutal out there. At least wait until the storm passes." And the orange head looks so hopeful at that moment it breaks my heart. Uncle Nick and I could tell that he wants to stay in the warmth of the house, but something holds him back and the hope runs away from his eyes.

"I can't." He turns the door handle and lets in the cold. "Thanks," he repeats, only quieter, more cautious and reserved before he steps out into the winter storm and disappears into the white. We rush to the door to search for the little orange-haired, cautious thief and find only his retreating footprints in the snow.

"For a kid with a limp, he sure does leave fast." Uncle Nick says, surprising me. Sometimes I underestimate his observation skills.

"Hmm," is all I can come up with. We stand there for a few moments before Uncle Nick states that he has to make a few business calls about Mr. Wayne's birthday party for his son, Richard if I recall, and hurries away without looking back.

I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes, reviewing what has just occurred. The situation plays out like a movie in my head, and I start to realize some things about the kid I didn't contemplate before. Like how he constantly looked at the clock, or how he rapidly tapped his hands during the few moments he spoke or, now that I think about it, how we never learned his name. Of all the questions I asked, I didn't ask the most basic one of all, even though I doubt he would've told me. The more I think about it the stranger the boy became and the greater the mystery... But most of all, the most puzzling part wasn't everything that was unknown about the boy, but how familiar he seemed, like I've seen his face somewhere before, but I just can't place where.


	2. Unlovable

**AU: Hey! Sorry for the length of this chapter, but I couldn't find a place to cut it off. Not mentioned in the previous chapter, this is an AU of both Young Justice and Rise of the Gaurdians. I know, I know. I should've put it in the crossover department but honestly it's more focused on Wally West in the beginning and it's just as enjoyable even if you** ** _don't_** **know all of their characters. Anyways, I'm putting up an identical story in the Crossover for Rise of the Guardians and Young Justice section. I hope you enjoy!**

"West. West! Come on, wake up buddy!" But I don't want to get up. It's cold and loud and it would be so much easier to just keep my eyes closed and to just keep my eyes closed and to ignore the nagging voice trying to wake me up. "Come on! We have to move. Now!" the desperation in my friend's voice snaps me out of my laziness and I jump from my makeshift bed. Just as quickly as I open my eyes were running to the alleyway we call our home and down the deserted sidewalk.

"Who is it this time?" I ask. I'm already ahead of him despite my late start, but he quickly catches up as snow begins to stick. "The Empire" my face pales and I almost fall on my face. The Empire... of all the lousy, no-good gangs that had to chase us down today it had to be the Empire! I can hear the motorcycles roaring down the street and their voices yelling out, calling for blood. Our blood.

I see an escape coming up through boarded up alleyway and I remember there being an abandoned apartment complex the next block over. "Left!" I yell, and we make a sharp turn. Jack jumps over the boarded up fence that obviously prohibits our access to our escape route. I marvel at his ability to seemingly fly over obstacles like it's nothing and grab his hand just in time for the gang to catch up to us.

As he's hoisting me up one of the members takes out his bat and hits me so hard I hear the wood splinter. A slight scream escapes me before I can help it and the gang laughs at my misery. I can still hear them as we run through the alleyway and towards the abandoned building. The snow is falling heavily now and is on the verge of becoming a blizzard. Jack doesn't seem to mind and actually allows to smile to reach his eyes. His white hair matches the snow and his bare feet seem to hug the ground we finally reach the apartment complex and I nearly collapse with relief. My leg is killing me!

Jack sees my pain and notices my injury All the fun and joy in his eyes fall in one fell swoop. "Sit down" He commands and I do as he says. He lifts up the pant like to see the damage and he freezes the way he does when he's trying to hide what he's thinking. "What's the report, Captain?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood. He snaps out of his thoughts, smiling a carefree smile that doesn't match the worry in his eyes. "Just a scratch."

I don't believe him so I lean over to see for myself and... oh boy, that's a little more than a scratch. "I'm lucky I'm a fast healer." I mumble. "Yeah, but you need food in order to heal properly, and there's no way you're going out in this" He says. He frowns guilty. "I'm sorry kiddo, you could have gotten away so much faster if I wasn't holding you back." I shake my head in exasperation. He always does this! When I open my mouth to retort, Jack just holds up his hand. " Don't try to deny it. I've seen how fast you can run and that wasn't nearly the speed you were just going." My mouth snaps shut with an audible click. I fix him with a look that clearly says I don't like where his conversation is going. The teenager just sighs in response, no doubt reading me like a book. "Sorry, kid. Sorry. Just… don't slow down because of me, alright? I can take care of myself."

I roll my eyes and pick up some snow, throwing a ball of it at his face. "I'm not a kid, old man!" We laugh and the fun is back. A strong gust almost knocks me down before I catch myself with my damaged leg. My laughter immediately stops and I hiss through my teeth. Jack rushes to my side and holds me up. Is it just me or did Jack's glare towards the sky immediately silence the wind?

"Sit down" I do as he says. He presses down on the injury and I whimper in pain before a wave cold spreads through it and I sigh in relief "Jack, your hands are freezing." I joke, but he could hear the underlying tone of concern and ruffles my hair the way my uncle used to before... everything. The smile I receive seems to say 'I have a secret you wouldn't believe' before his crystal blue eyes flash and his face changes back to his signature smirk. "I'm just naturally cold-blooded."

Jack's a terrible liar, although to the untrained eye he would show no indication of falsehood. It takes someone who's been around him long enough to tell the difference. He knows this, and I know he knows I know this. He also knows I have the same condition, so we practice our silent agreement of not questioning the validity of our statements when it comes to ourselves and our pasts on a daily basis based on this knowledge. I just nod and smile and trust my big brother figure because it's really none of my business why he could jump so high, or silence the wind, or why his hands are like ice. Just like it's none of his why I can run so far, or heal so fast or eat so much.

He helps me into the abandoned building and guides me to the floor before standing back up and heading back the way we came. "I'm going to go look for some food. Please, don't go anywhere!" I nod my head and he walks out. I lay on to my back to await his return. Outside it's eerily quiet. As if the snow muffled the noise. As the seconds tick by, it gets colder and colder and my breath becomes more visible.

I tap the floor with my hands and take note of my surroundings. There's really not much to look at. There's dust everywhere, no furniture and cracks in the walls. This place is huge though. It's has at least the length of 10 allys the width of 7! It's still not as large as my first home... wait. Stop. Don't go there. That's in the past. Keep moving forward, West.

I huff out a breath of smoke and push myself up so I'm in a sitting position. My stomach growls and I groan in frustration. "Where are you, Jack?" I mumble to myself. I can't sit around any longer so I make an attempt to stand up. To my immense surprise, I succeed and find that the sharp pain has reduced to an extreme ache, with the occasional pang of discomfort. This pleasant surprise is replaced by an unpleasant one when my head swims and my surroundings become blurry and distorted.

I hold my head with one hand and lean on the wall with the other. I immediately know what this is. No, no, no, no! Not now! I won't pass out just so my leg could heal a little faster. It's a weird thing I found out about after my first instance with no food and an injury. It seems as if my body gets its priorities mixed up so it takes away from my staying-awake-and-not-randomly-passing-out ability to compensate for my injury. Of course, if I had food right now this wouldn't even be a problem.

I stumble when I try to take a step and have to grip the wall with both hands so I don't fall. I am extremely tempted to just pass out for the next few days but it's way too dangerous when it's this cold out. If Jack saw me like this, he would either have to stay with me and put himself in danger or leave me to freeze to death. There is no way I would put him through that. There's only one option: I have to get the food myself.

I walk along the wall and make my way to the exit. I have to use some speed to get there at all but that seems to just deplete my energy more. When I get outside a most horrible sight meets my gaze. A garbage truck. Picking up garbage. AKA my food. Perfectly edible scraps just being ground together in a mangled heap.

I almost break down and give up right there until I see that the truck gets stuck at a red light and there's still a house they didn't get to yet. I do the calculations in my head. Yes, I can make it. It's only four blocks away and that light stays red for approximately 30 seconds. So that's 7.5 seconds for each block. Okay. I brace myself for the pain and look around to make sure no one is watching. All clear. I shoot through the blocks with five seconds to spare, grab the lone garbage bag standing outside the house, and hide in an alleyway. I wheeze and gasp for breath while holding my damaged leg. All the healing that was done is now undone and it's on fire.

I rip through the trash looking for something, anything, that could give me some fuel. I can feel my vision darkening. Just when I start to fall to the ground, my hand wraps around something that feels like bread. I quickly stuff it in my mouth and my vision improves immediately. I look down to see what I ate. A moldy sandwich, thank God for my ridiculous immune system. I stuff the rest in my mouth. Then I look through the rest of the trash for more nutrients. All I find are some crumbs of tortilla chips and the leftovers of a mushy banana which I gratefully eat.

My leg is starting to feel better so I stand up slowly, cautiously, and put some pressure on it. I wince. Definitely not healed yet but better than a minute ago. I double check the garbage hoping that I missed something with no such luck. I need to find more food so I can be a hundred percent. I look at the houses. All the trash is taken. Everyone is at home, hiding from the storm. Buying anything is out of the question and there's no way in hell I'm going to a soup kitchen. This is the perfect time for Social Services to pick up kids desperate for shelter. Think West, think.

I walk out of the alley hoping to find some inspiration. Should I steal from the houses? No, no way. Too risky. However, I find myself scouring the driveways for the absence of cars. I stop in my tracks. Nicholas' Workshop. Home to the one and only master cook, Nicholas St. North. If there's one place with food, this would be it. He probably has so much, he wouldn't notice if a few snacks went missing from his inventory. No cars or limos in the driveway. No coach men coming down the road for lavish parties. The house looks deserted. I usually don't steal from houses. Sure, I may take some trash from _outside,_ and maybe I lighten up some heavy pockets if I come across them, but inside houses are different, dangerous. It's a lot easier to get shot at in a home, and if the house has dogs … I shake my head to come out of the memory. I can't think like that, I have to think of how great a full stomach will be and how proud Jack would say he was of me.

I take a deep breath and walk towards the house. Before I step on the premises I search for security cameras the mansion is bound to have some. I count six. Shit. I nonchalantly make my way to the back and spot a security panel requiring a passcode. I smile, it's the old model, one I recognize. Carefully taking off the back panel, I work my magic and within the minute the whole system is shutdown. I have less than 5 minutes before the backup starts. I see a window and try to open it. Eureka! The kitchen. I climb through and land on the floor.

Immediately, the smell of cookies and brownies hit me in the face. I find the source coming from the oven the same time I hear someone going towards the door. I freeze as I see Nicholas St. North himself pass unknowingly by the kitchen. I hear him greet someone at the entrance. It's time to go.

I rip open the oven and pull out the cookies. They're searing hot in my hands but I don't dare make a sound of complaint. The oven closes with a BANG and I freeze for a split second before scrambling for a place to hide. I don't hear the voices anymore and seeing a cupboard under a sink I go in there and close the door quietly. My heart is pounding in my chest and I'm breathing so hard you might call it hyperventilating. A loud cry makes me jump slightly and then it's quiet. The cookies and brownies are hot in my hand and I listen for any indication of suspicion or retreat.

"Where are the brownies?" my eyes widen as the voice cuts through me like a knife. They know. They know and they're going to find me. And they probably have a gun becausewhywouldn'ttheyhaveagunandOHMYGODTHEY'REGOINGTO _FIND_ ME… but before they do, I might as well die full. I stuff the food in my mouth and immediately regret it. "OUCH!" I screech involuntarily and I gasp in pain. My tongue is burning. Damn, that was _hot_.

I hear footsteps coming towards me and before I can react I'm face to face with Nicholas and a teenager looking as shocked as I'm feeling. For a moment, none of us says anything. I have to leave, I have to go, I need to _run._ "Now, hold on kid." The cook says and he raises his hands. The flinch that follows is automatic as memories of punches and kicks and **hurt** rush through my mind. But then he lowers his hands and I'm back. I can't wait any longer. I kick out towards his shin and duck out from under the sink. I turn towards the way I came only to find the damn window closed. Guess I've got to find my way out.

I see something in my peripheral and grab it on instinct. "Don't come any closer!" I yell. Suddenly everything is heightened: the dubious expression on their faces the crumbs around my mouth, and the fact I picked up a _can opener_ as my weapon. I lick the crumbs off my face, momentarily getting lost in my little piece of heaven before coming back to my senses and tightening the grip of my weapon.

The chef takes a step towards me and I focus my attention on him. "Get away!" I yell in panic when he continues to advance. With speed that almost rivals my own, the weapon is gone from my grasp. "A can opener?" he asks, almost condescendingly. I have nothing left. No escape route, no weapon, no hope. So, I do the only thing I can think of. Crouching into a ball I cover my head and prepare for the pain to come. It's too similar. Too similar from the world I escaped from, from the daily _Hell_ I've been through in that damn, _house_.

Suddenly, I'm not in the workshop any more, but in my old residence. " _Get the fuck up, you worthless freak!" A punch to the gut. "Why I keep you at all is beyond me!" A kick to the head. I reach towards my mother, she moves out of the way in disgust. This earns me a slap across my face. Her sickeningly sweet voice fills the room. "Rudolph, you're getting blood on the carpet again." The man mutters in annoyance before gripping my hair and drags me out the house, towards the garage, increasing the barrage of attacks. "Dad! Daddy, stop! Please!" I yell. To my astonishment, the hits cease and I let myself hope. It's dashed away when he grabs me by the throat and pushes me against the wall. Getting so close in my face I could smell the vodka on his breath. "I am NOT your 'daddy'" he says in a mocking tone. "I stopped having a son the moment you turned into a freak. You are nothing to me. Everyday you're in my sight is another day of misery for me. Who would ever love you?" He spits in my face. "You're unlovable." He lifts me up and my head smashes against the gravel._

I feel someone touch my arm and flinch violently. Oh yeah… I'm in the workshop. I'm not there anymore. I'm safe. Safe. "Hey, listen we're not going to hurt you."

Not safe. Nope.

I scramble back and choke on heavy sobs. When did I start crying? "Were you hungry? Is that why you stole the food?" I freeze. That's when I notice the absence of pain. It must be a trick. I look up to see her waiting face before biting my lip and resting my head on my knees. She's not getting any answers out of me. But my traitorous stomach says otherwise and I scowl out of view. "Where are your parents?" She asks. I retreat into myself at that question. What is this, an interrogation? "Do you have a home?" she whispers and my head snaps up in alarm as a new thought occurs to me. What if she calls the SS? They'll know my identity right away. I look at her right in the eye, daring her to make a call. She nods her head, in understanding. A little piece of my mind wonders at that but it quickly goes away with her next question.

"Are you still hungry?" Before I can respond, a boisterous laugh fills the room, "Hungry? Is that what this is about?" My eyes move to the cook and he reminds me so much of my uncle I relax instinctually. "You may have broken into the best house in the neighborhood if you're lookin' for food!" The tense atmosphere dissipates and I'm thoroughly confused. I don't question it though and slowly stand up, seeing as how the immediate danger isn't here any longer.

Living out on the streets makes me very wary of good luck though, and the minute I see an opening, I'm gone. "Relax, we won't call the cops on you for stealing some food." I turn towards the voice. This girl is very perceptive, but the sincerity in her eyes is so much like Jack's, I decide to give this good luck thing a chance. I guess I can stay here for the moment.

I offer her a smile of reassurance before catching sight of the massive cake Nicholas got out. My inner child screams out "CAKE!" and I have to hold myself back from diving in head first. It's been so long since I've tasted cake… The man seems to take it the wrong way and questions hesitantly, "You don't like cake? Are you allergic to it or something?" I shake my head, and I reply in the negative. It's been a while… " How long is a while?" Crap, I said that out loud. I shrug in fake nonchalance trying, and failing to hide my excitement. Aw, screw it! I get lost in the sweetness of it all, not even bothering to slow down when I see how uncomfortable my eating habits are making the two hosts. Jack would love this!

I stop in my tracks. Jack… he would want some. I take the remainder of the dessert, wrap it around some paper towel lying on the counter, and stuff it in my pocket for safekeeping. I look up and meet the gaping gaze of my hosts. "What?" I ask. They probably think I'm disgusting, a freak. I wouldn't blame them. But instead of disgust, the chef sounds more in awe. "You just ate that whole cake in less than a minute." I shrug, "I have a fast metabolism." North nods in acceptance and takes out a container. "Here, this should make it easier to carry your cake in." I take it hesitantly. I hope he's not expecting to get this back.

I look at the clock. Wow, it's late. Time to go. I turn and walk towards the door. When I realize that they're not dragging me back to the house I allow myself to take my time, and to prepare against the impending cold. Turning back, I look at some of the kindest people I've met since I met Jack. "Thanks." I say sincerely. The chef frowns, "Kid, it's brutal out there. At least wait until the storm passes." And a wave of nostalgia hits me so hard, I have to fight to not take their offer. He reminds me so much of my Uncle Barry it hurts. Maybe, just until the storm passes, I could pretend to have people who care about me again. He seems sincere, and the girl next to him looks even more so.

But then my father's words come back to me. Words that have been proven over and over again through the course of my life with everyone but Jack. The uneaten cake in my pocket suddenly feels so much more important. I take a step towards the door. "I can't." I mumble, "Thanks." Then I step out of the house and run as fast as I could, away from the warmth, away from the false care, and the hope and the comfortable life of ignorant chefs and understanding teenage girls as my father's words haunt me in the back of my mind. " _You're unlovable."_ I can't find it in myself to disagree.

 **AU: Welp, there you have it! I put a little hint of Star Wars Rebels in there. Hope you liked it and tell me if you want more, or not. Reviews are welcome!**


	3. A Day Full of Surprises

**AN: This one is shorter than the other two. Let me know if you prefer the shorter chapters or longer ones.**

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Jack looked at his target with dismay. The convenience store looked harmless in the steady snow that fell around it, almost seeming like a haven from the impending storm if you didn't know any better. Sadly, Jack knew better. He wouldn't even be anywhere near this place if there were any other option. All the other shops were closed and time was of the essence. Jack's eyebrows scrunched together and he huffed out a breath in frustration. ' _Desperate times call for desperate measures,'_ he thought.

The wind blew reassuringly through his hair. Jack allowed a small, genuine smile to reach his face before schooling his features. He sighed in resignation and straightened his back. Stuffing his hands in his hoodie, he sauntered into the corner shop with a fake nonchalance, a fake smile, and a fake purpose.

' _Maybe it's his day off,'_ Jack thought hopefully, as he headed to the back where one would normally do their grocery shopping. Ironically, it was also where the pharmacy was located. Jack cursed his grumpy, Australian exchange student was intently reading a textbook on dairy and farming with a scowl on his face, mumbling about something or another in a frustrated manner. The teenager considered his possible course of action and, deciding to just get the confrontation over with, he slipped on an easygoing grin and made his way to the counter.

"Hey Kangaroo, what're you reading?" he asked, trying to attempt to sound polite. His grin fell slightly when he got no reply, thinking that the college student was just ignoring him. He couldn't wait all day for a response, West was counting on him. His fingers twitched as he considered just grabbing a hand full of snacks and making a break for it. It would be a futile effort, he knew, the part- time employee could be a fast runner when he had a reason to be. He was running out of time, and growing anxious. The storm grew heavier outside, making the lights flicker.

Fortunately, this prompted the reader to look up. If he was surprised to see Jack standing there, he didn't show it. Instead his scowl only deepened, leaving his spiky black hair to stand up more than usual. His green eyes narrowed in what he hoped to be an intimidating manner. "Get out," he spat, glaring at the teenage nuisance.

Jack's grin widened marginally, "Aww, you're not still mad about what happened last Easter are you?" he asked in mock confusion.

"Yes," he said, through gritted teeth and wearing patience, "and don't call me Kangaroo."

"So you did hear me," Jack placed a hand on his heart and faked hurt, "to be ignored… such a tragedy!"

"We don't acknowledge thieves here," the Australian put a hand on his head as if he were getting a headache by the boy's mere presence. "Get out before I call the cops."

"Oh, come on, you can't take a joke? Learn to have a little fun, Kangaroo. It was just a harmless prank!"

"Some might call your stupid pranks crimes…"

"No one got hurt! It was a couple bags of snacks! "

"You nearly got me fired," his glare intensified. "And the bloody name's _Aster_ , not _Kangaroo_."

"And you have to admit, the firecrackers were a nice touch," Jack continued, ignoring Aster's comment. "The look on your face was priceless!"

"What are you doing here, Jackson?!" He nearly growled in frustration. He was in a particularly bad mood when the little bludger decided to show up at his work place, and he just wanted the kid out before he decided to ruin his day more than he already managed. Jack sobered a bit, both by the use of his full name and by the reminder of why he came into the store in the first place.

"I need a refill," he replied. He placed an empty medicine bottle on the counter along with a prescription.

Aster frowned in disbelief. He never recalled Jack coming in for anything except to annoy the hell out of him before.

"See for yourself," Jack stated, sensing his distrust. Aster glanced at him before flipping the bottle to where the name was. Sure enough, Jackson Frost was printed on the side.

Begrudgingly, he trudged to the back, where they kept the medicine, leaving Jack to an empty store, surrounded by food with no supervision. Jack sighed in relief and let the easy going smile wash away. He needed to work fast.

He grabbed as much food and snacks in his hands as he could carry, stuffing them in his pockets. He glanced towards the back. Aster would be back any minute, he had to be gone by the time that happened. Snatching some water and Coke from the fridge, he made his way towards the front of the store.

"HEY, GET BACK HERE! THIEF!" Jack started running. He could hear the shouts getting closer as he neared the exit. By the time he reached the door, the pursuer managed to grab his hood, yanking him back. "No way, you're not getting away this time!" Aster yelled, dragging him away from his escape.

Jack had a sudden spike of panic, not only for himself, but for his little brother. ' _What would he do if I were to get arrested?,'_ Jack thought, ' _Sure, he could take care of himself, but it's freezing outside! And what if the gangs found him? How is he going to get away in his condition?!'_ As his anxiety grew the storm raged harder outside. The wind pounded against the building and the lights flickered, threatening to go out. The temperature in the store dropped significantly and Aster shivered slightly with the newfound cold.

' _I could've sworn I turned up the heat to full blast,'_ he thought. He stopped dragging the boy and warily observed the lights, finding solace in the fact that they bought a new generator last winter. That's when he noticed how still the kid became, and that he was quite literally dragging him with no resistance. This made him nervous. The teenager always managed to be a thorn in his side with _anything_ concerning him. So, the fact that he was coming quietly unnerved him quite a bit.

With a start, he realized that he was literally dragging the boy by his _neck_. "Oy, kid! You didn't pass out on me, right?" Although he knew the notion was ridiculous, he couldn't quite fathom any other reason for the teenager's sudden silence.

Aster turned the boy around, refusing to let him go in case this was one of his tricks, and tried to look at his face. The moment he did, he wished he didn't.

The teenager stared back at him head on. Usually Aster could hold the kid's gaze no problem, but for some reason he had to look away. His face was devoid of emotion, and his icy blue eyes were now raging in sync with the storm outside. The boy was typically seen as the neighborhood pest, a source of entertainment at best. Although Aster didn't know much about him, he would've thought Jack would be cracking jokes by now, or at least being a little bit panicked. Nothing could be further than what was in front of him. He suddenly felt foolish trying to drag the boy into the store so he could call the cops. Like a mouse trying to tame a wild tiger. Aster's only encountered it a few times in his 21 years of living.

The boy radiated _power_.

"Let. Me. GO!" Jack yelled. He gripped the hand that was still clutching his hoodie and Aster yelped in pain. Burning cold spread up his arm and he dropped him in shock. The moment he did, Jack bolted, snacks still in hand, out the door and into the storm. Aster watched as he disappeared, cradling his freezing arm.

Aster's mind was reeling. ' _What the hell was that?!_ ,' Aster thought. ' _One minute he was normal and the next…'_ Aster shook his head in bewilderment. He looked down at his arm, which had a strange tint of blue to it. Only then did he notice the light layer of frost in the shape of a hand, right where Jack grabbed him, that was rapidly melting away. Maybe he was a meta…? But Aster has met a lot of meta- humans in the past, and there was something about the whole situation that just felt off.

He thought about the whole scenario over and over again, rubbing his cold arm as he did so, trying to get his blood flowing. When he felt that he had enough feeling in his arm, he sighed and made his way the break room. He picked up the phone with slightly trembling hands and grunted in frustration. Aster was _never_ scared and yet a teenager managed to leave him shaking. He dialed Nicholas' number and waited impatiently for him to pick up. He answered on the second ring.

"Bunny! Nice to hear from ya! I was actually gonna' call, I just got off the phone with Bruce and-"

"North, we need to call a meeting." Aster said interrupting his ramblings. There was a moment of silence before Nicholas responded.

"Yeah, I was gonna' to say the same thing. I have something important to tell everybody." Aster was surprised, North rarely shared anything with the _entire_ group unless it was something truly important.

"Well, now I'm curious. You may as well tell me since you've got me on the line, mate."

What North said was nothing he would've ever expected. "I decided to take on a protege of my own!" Aster could practically hear the excitement in his voice.

This day was just full of surprises.


	4. What To Do, What To Do

**AN: Thank you so freaking much for the reviews! This my first story and I appreciate the feedback. Please, I love critiques and my ultimate goal is to make my writing** ** _better_** **so if there is anything wrong with the story, plot or otherwise, please tell me.**

 **Everytime I get a review, I am so grateful. Tell me if you think the story is going too slowly or not.**

 **Are there any jokes you know? I need one for the next chapter.**

 **Welp here ya go!**

Wallace West used to love to run. As a child, that was all he could be seen doing. Running to school, running to his parents, running home, running, running, running.

Wallace West used to love running.

Used to.

Now, he hated it.

It always seemed like such a natural thing, running towards things. Towards the finish line, into his mother's loving arms, to school, and back home. Now, West found himself missing such a luxury. As he ran away from Nicholas' workshop, he couldn't help but think about how much it _hurt_ running away. How different it was running _from_ than running _to_.

Tears streamed down his face, quickly being whisked away by the rushing wind as he ran. Quickly reaching the abandoned apartment complex, he collapsed on the cold, hard floor and crouched into a ball, gasping for breath., whether from the sudden use of his speed, or from the sobs escaping his throat, he couldn't tell.

He was frustrated with himself. He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying. He angrily wiped his tears away only for them to be replaced by more. He wondered if he was crying because he left the warm house, or because he was reminded of his old home, before everything went to hell. Either way, he resolved, he had to get a grip.

Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes and willed the pain away. _I could pretend it was just a dream,_ he thought, _just a stupid, teasing, unrealistic dream._ His green eyes opened slowly with a fragile calm and he forced himself to focus on other things.

That was when he realized: Where was Jack?

The thought made him pause, and in growing worry he looked around, as if expecting for him to be hiding somewhere. He stood up and peeked out the door. All he saw was white, and the storm was growing by the second.

 _How did I even run in this?_ he thought. He recalled leaving the house after seeing the clock and realizing it was already 7:30, assuming that Jack was waiting for him at the hideout. _It has to be at least 8 o'clock by now._

He had a sudden spike of panic. What if Jack was hurt? What if he was in an accident? Or hit by a car? Or got caught by the cops! West's eyebrows scrunched together in concern. Maybe he should go looking for him, what if he really was in trouble?

He focused on the snow again, raging white against a backdrop of black. He quickly reconsidered searching for Jack, he wouldn't be able to see anything in this. He stepped outside and leaned against the doorway, finding some comfort in the cold. Jack always drew strength from the cold.

 _He'll be alright,_ West thought. _He said he would be right back, he was just going to get food. He'll come back, I just need to be patient._ But there was always that little voice in the back of his mind that told him that maybe, just maybe, Jack won't come back. That maybe he finally got tired of him.

Wally tried to shake the thought away.

 _He'll come back, he always does._ He sank down to sit in the snow, clutching the leftover cake in his pocket.

 _I'll wait until he does._

 **JACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLY**

JACK POV

Shit.

That's the first thing I thought when I came to my senses: Shit, shit _shit._

I can't believe I just did that. I freaking _iced Aster_ of all people. I haven't lost control once since I've been here, what the hell happened?

I rake my fingers through my hair, my hands are shaking, though I can't feel cold. I can feel my heavy legs slowing to a drag while I try to find the little bit of energy to move.

Maybe he won't say anything. Maybe he'll just think it was a fluke or an illusion or-.

I stop in my tracks and my eyes widen. There's no way he wouldn't tell someone.

I'm so screwed.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!" I scream out in frustration, my voice getting lost in the howling wind. The snow is quickly piling up, building as my panic increases. I need to calm down.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath but it doesn't seem to be working. Worries about the complications that would arise after my stupid little stunt cause an endless flow of thoughts to flood my mind. Each one worse than the last. The snow is up to my shins. The town will be buried at this rate! I need to _calm down._

I grit my teeth and force myself to slow my breathing and to empty my mind. The snow lowers in intensity. The wind blows around me blows in encouragement. _In_ , I taking a deep, shuddering breath, _out,_ I force it through my teeth. I repeat the process a couple more times before I open my eyes and collapse in the snow.

 _I can't keep doing this,_ I think. Ever since I woke up 9 months ago with no memory about who I was or how I got here, I've been struggling with this power. The only thing I recalled, as well as the first thing I thought when I woke up, was that _I was Jack Frost,_ and that I wasn't supposed to be here. I was a living anachronism, stuck in a time that wasn't mine. My hand clutches my chest, a hollow loneliness reminds me of how much I don't belong.

Wiping the the tears that invaded my cheeks I stand up on wobbling legs and stare up at the snow. I smile a little. No matter how much my life sucks, no matter how confusing it gets, the snow will always be there when winter comes.

Shaking my head I head back to the hideout where West is waiting. It's dark out, really dark. A steady flow of snow is still falling but it has calmed down considerably. My snacks are, amazingly, still in hand.

I hope West is okay, I've been gone much longer than I intended. I pick up the pace. My mind drifts back to my encounter with Aster. Now that I've calmed down, I can think over the situation more calmly. Focus on the facts. Okay, so I iced the kangaroo. I ran away. Those are the facts. Now what can I do about it?

At best, he would just forget about it, and we can go on living our lives in mock ignorance. I scoff at myself. Yeah, right, like that'll happen. It's more of a wish than an actual possibility.

At worst, he'd tell the authorities. The government and maybe even the Justice League will get involved. I could be detained as a suspected dangerous meta-human, and anyone I'm close to would be interrogated and intensely monitored for the rest of their lives.

I kick the snow in frustration. This is only one of the worst case scenarios my mind conjured up, but it's much more likely than the best case scenario. I can't do that to West, I just can't. But I can't bear to leave my little brother either.

But if it's to keep him safe… what other options do I have?

The thought of parting with the kid I've only known for 5 months makes me feel sick. There must be another way. There must! But the apartment complex comes into view, and I can still find no alternative.

The snow has slowed to a sad trickle. I could see a figure in front of the abandoned building. With a sinking feeling, I run to meet the freezing boy who is sitting against the doorway. His eyes are closed and his breath is uneven and cloudy.

"West!" I shake him in panic. He stirs but doesn't wake. I shake him harder. "West! Damn it, West! What are you doing outside in this weather?!" He still doesn't wake.

I curse and drag him inside. "West! Wake up!" Nothing. "West, I have food! You're hungry aren't you?" His hands twitch, but he doesn't wake up. I breath a slight sigh of relief. At least he's responsive.

I take a bag of chips out and hold it up to his nose. It's worked before, like magic, when he was knocked out after he tripped down the stairs of another abandoned building we were holed up in. On a whim, I put some food up to his face, having seen it in a cartoon once, and he woke up, asking what was cooking. I hope it works now.

"Come on, come on. Wake up!" Slowly but surely, he wakes up. His eyes slowly open, much slower than the time when he fell down the stairs.

"Where's the food?" he asks. I almost cry in relief. Then I lightly smack him upside the head.

"What were you thinking, sleeping outside?!" His eyes slowly moved to mine.

"I was waiting for you," he got something out of his pocket, "I got you some cake. Souvenir." And despite the situation, I couldn't help but snort out laughter.

"Where the heck did you get cake?" He smiles mischievously, but there's something in his eyes that makes me worry. Some kind of deep, lingering sadness.. But it's gone before I could be sure I saw it

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I can't help but realize the irony of his claim.

"Try me."

He sits up and delves into his story.


	5. A New Friend

**_This takes place a couple of weeks after the events of chapter 4. Richard finally meets Wally! :D Hope ya enjoy!_**

 _2 weeks later_

Wallace West was having a really crappy week.

After he told Jack about his encounter with Nicholas, it felt like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Sure, he had bouts of nostalgia for the warmth of the people there, but it was slowly but surely going away. He could even forget about it for hours at a time which, in all honesty, was a _real_ accomplishment.

But then the Rogues paid him a visit a week ago, and Nicholas' workshop became the least of his problems.

West was currently hiding behind a dumpster, having split up with Jack blocks ago, he didn't have to worry as much about controlling his speed. There were just so many more Rogues than he imagined.

He peeked around the dumpster to see if the coast was clear, catching sight of Captain Cold icing the street in a fit of frustration. "Come on kid! We just wanna talk!" West scoffed. Yeah, sure, and threatening him at gunpoint is a universal symbol of wanting to talk.

The ice criminal caught sight of West, rounding on him with his ice gun with impressive speed. Before he could move out of the way, he had an icy gash in his side, creating a weird mix of warm and cold dripping through his shirt.

He hissed in pain and made a break for it. This was getting ridiculous, getting hurt within a short span of time was nothing new but couldn't he catch a _little_ bit of a break?

Maybe it was the pain, or because he wasn't paying attention, but he ended up on the other side of the city faster than anticipated. He quickly overlooked the street for any sign of the Rogues, and, thankfully, found none He ran into an alley, barely hiding himself in the shadows before he collapsed against the wall. Looking at the wound he relaxed when he found it to be superficial. This injury wasn't as bad as his injury two weeks ago, a short nap wouldn't hurt.

He huffed out a laugh, "Why would the Rogues want to recruit _me_ ," he asked himself, putting his head on his knees, "So… stupid…"

He closed his eyes for a well deserved rest.

* * *

"Hey, Grayson!" Richard dodged a pencil and tried to ignore the taunts and jeers thrown his way, "Don't try to steal my lunch, stupid Gypsy!"

The raven haired boy bit his lip, biting back a retort. What did they know about him? Just because he looked different, talked different, _was_ different, didn't give them any right to be mean! An eraser hit its mark, and Grayson couldn't resist shooting a mini Bat-glare towards the bullies. They immediately went silent, while one brave soul scoffed nervously and stated that the circus freak wasn't worth their time.

Richard returned his attention to the school bus window, observing the sights and sounds of Central City. When he learned that his class would be going on the trip, he was ecstatic. He didn't have much experience of America outside of Gotham City, and the few times Haley's Circus was in other cities, he was too small to explore outside of the tent's walls.

A frown marred his face when he heard his classmates mocking his accent. With his hopes were dashed the second he boarded the plane, and his homesickness only grew on the bus ride away from the airport, towards the city. He tried to think of other things. His birthday was coming up. He turned his frown upside down. He thought about how good Uncle North's food would be and how he would see Uncle Barry and Uncle Hal and Uncle Clark and -

His thoughts went to a conversation with Bruce that soured his mood once again.

" _Hey, Dick. Why don't you invite some of your friends to your birthday party?" DIck looked up from the invitations he was making. Richard Grayson was a smart kid, he already knew that Bruce knew about his lack of 'school buddies', but he always needed a confirmation to his theories. Sighing, he looked at his guardian's face, finding a detective's curiosity and a father's worry._

 _Deciding to get the inevitable out of the way, he asked for the CEO to pass the glue. "I don't have any friends," he stuck a bat cut-out to the front of the card, "can you pass me the marker, please?"_

After that, Bruce didn't bring the subject up again, but Richard knew that he wanted to. If he could make just one friend, it would make it so much easier! Someone kicked the back of his seat.

Sadly, the 8- year old found that highly unlikely.

When they finally reached their destination, The Flash Museum, Richard couldn't get off the bus quicker. Shaking his head, he marveled at how he could fight the Riddler, with the most fearsome embodiment of justice in Gotham, and not stand up to a bunch of fourth grade bullies. Luckily for him, most of the kids were too preoccupied with the statue of The Flash than with him. Trying to get a closer look, he edged towards the plaque that marveled the super hero's achievements before being shoved away by an especially nasty classmate of his.

Edie Smarks scowled like he smelled something rotten, "Don't come near us circus freak, we don't want any of your Gypsy stink to run off on us!" Richard frowned but tried to ignore the rude child. He didn't know anything, just walk past him, he's not worth his time..

"No wonder your mom handed you over to Wayne! Probably didn't want to deal with you, circus trash!" Richard froze, "Wayne is just keeping you for publicity, why would he ever want a useless freak like you?"

Richard's fist tightened and it took all his willpower not to pounce on Edie. Heroes didn't beat up civilians, they didn't succumb to bullies, they kept their cool.

Edie nearly snarled when he didn't get a reaction out of the new kid. He 'accidentally' stepped on his foot while tripping his other foot out from under him. Smiling in satisfaction when he heard a painful yelp, he followed the rest of his classmates inside the museum, leaving Grayson outside on the snow.

The other kids left, even the teacher went inside, assuming the fallen boy would pick himself up to follow the crowd. Richard stood up on shaking legs and made to move into the museum, but found that he couldn't and that his mask of indifference was gone. Tears streamed down his face. He turned the opposite way and ran down the sidewalk, away from his class, away from the museum, running towards nowhere.

' _I'm tired of this!'_ he thought, ' _I want to go home.'_

But Richard Grayson was a smart kid., he knew he couldn't go home.

So he just kept running.

.

.

.

' _Uh oh'_

He looked to the left. Then he looked to the right. Then he looked at the ground, and the sky just for the heck of it.

' _...I'm lost…'_

The fourth grader tried not to worry, he really did! But his phone was dead (Bruce _told_ him to charge it last night, *mental finger snap* darn), and he lost the group (why the heck did he run away from school on a school trip?), and the signs in this place were no help whatsoever. Maybe he could ask for help! Looking around some more for people, he realized with growing dread that he somehow, unknowingly, ran to a shady part of town where the only folks around were lurking in the shadows.

Sighing, he picked up the pace and tried to ignore the figures watching the 8 year old. Richard's palms were sweaty despite the cold. Was he, the Batman's protege, nervous? Well, duh! Of course he was! He's only been his partner for 5 months, and as much he hated to admit it, he wasn't allowed to go on solo patrol once yet.

He smacked his palms on his school pants, wiping off the sweat with a grunt. Didn't mean he had to like it though…

He stopped in his tracks, and for some reason, he'd swear it was his Bat- sense later on, he looked to his right. The dark alley was nothing special, just like any other to the untrained eye. Looking closer though, the acrobat could just see the outline of a child hidden in the shadows.

' _He looks like he needs help'_ Richard thought, and with that he walked deeper into the alleyway, ' _he looks homeless,'_ a rapid fire stream of questions entered his mind, ' _is he lost? Where are his parents? Is he hurt? Is he dead? Why is he all alone? Where are his shoes? Who is he?'_

The boy looked to be not much older than himself, red- no, orange hair, ' _he must be cold,'_ Richard thought when he saw he was only wearing a tattered shirt and some ripped joggers. He reached out a hand, "Hey, are you alright?"

West woke with a start, scrambling up to see who disturbed his power rest, "Calm down, geez, I won't hurt you!" he looked down to see a young boy with raven- black hair, bright blue eyes and a Gotham Elementary uniform on.

"Who are you?" West asked defensively. The kid in front of him actually rolled his eyes, then held out his hand for him to shake.

Now, Richard is very familiar with secret identities, no doubt Bruce trained him enough for it, but there was something about the homeless kid in front of him that made him want to be his friend. He gave the widest smile he could muster, his tears long since dried up, and said, "I'm Richard, who are you?"

The orange head shook the hand cautiously, "I'm West," he looked at the kid's uniform, "You're not from around here, huh?"

The boy shook his head, "I'm on a school trip, but I kind of got lost," he looked back toward the street, "do you know where the Flash Museum is?"

West looked at him for a moment before sighing and motioning for the boy to follow him, "it's kind of complicated…" another sigh, "I'll show you the way."

Walking down the street, West lasted 20 seconds before he had to break the silence, "How the heck did you manage to get this lost anyway?" he asked.

Richard turned to him, "What do you mean?"

West rolled his eyes, "You're like, 3 miles away from the Flash Museum."

"Oh.."

"And how old are you? Six?"

"Eight!"

"Really?"

"Yes really! I'm almost nine! My birthday's next week."

West looked at the scrawny kid next to him, and sighed. Well, he wasn't one to judge. People probably thought that he was 9 at most, he just hoped this kid didn't ask him-

"How old are you?"

Of course.

"Eleven."

Richard stopped in his tracks, "No way! I thought you were my age!"

"Well, sorry to disappoint," West grumbled.

Silence. Richard ran to catch up.

"You never answered my question," Richard piped up.

"Yes I did. I'm _eleven,"_

"No, my first question. Are you alright?"

West looked at the Richard in surprise, "When did you ask that?"

"When you woke up," West knew why he was asking. He kept looking at his blood soaked shirt nervously.

"Yeah, it's an old injury."

Richard looked like he didn't believe him, but didn't push the subject.

West decided to move the conversation to a different direction, "So, have you ever been to Central City before?"

This seemed to be the right question because Richard's eyes lit up, "No, this is my first time!"

West smiled, "Well, maybe you'll get to see the Flash! He's super cool!"

"I hope so!" Richard looked down the street, "Who's your favorite superhero?"

"The Flash, duh! He's the fastest, even faster than Superman!"

"I like Batman more, but the Flash is a close second!"

West and Richard ended up talking about everything under the sun, other than themselves, until the Museum came into view. Richard noticed that West was getting quieter the closer they got, and realized that there were more people around, giving them odd looks.

Stopping a few paces short of the museum, West was looking more nervous than ever, "I think you should go by yourself from here."

Richard stopped mid- sentence and turned to him, "Why?"

"I don't think the people around here want me hanging out with you."

 _That_ made Richard look at surroundings. There were parents glancing at the two boys with worried stares, as if West is contagious or something and Richard is caught in the crossfire. A security guard was making his way towards them, looking like he was going to shoo them away.

West turned and started to walk away, "Wait!" Richard called, jogging to catch up. He reached into his pocket and held out an invitation to his birthday party, "Are we friends?"

The young speedster thought for a moment. Jack was his only friend, he shouldn't drag anyone into the mess that was his life. But..

He can't deny the fact, "Yes, definitely."

The young boy's face grew an ear splitting grin as he shoved the invite into his new friend's hands, "You have to come to my party!"

West looked at the card in disbelief, "I don't live anywhere near Gotham."

"I'll take care of that, call me the day before the party. Here's my number, and some cash for the call!" he wrote down his number on the invite and handed him some money, "Please, PLEEEEEASE!"

"FINE!" West shouted over his pleas, "I'll be there!"

Why did he just say that?

Richard knew that he won and ran up to the museum entrance, a frantic teacher rushing to meet them.

"Hey!" West called after him. Richard turned around, "Happy Birthday!"

Grinning, the raven haired boy waved and turned in time to meet the wrath of his teacher. Even as he was being scolded, he was still smiling.

* * *

When he got back home, Bruce was there at the door, his arms crossed with a disappointed frown, "Richard John Grayson, what possessed you to stray from the group in the middle of a school trip halfway across the country?"

Even Bruce couldn't hide his surprise when Richard tackled him with a hug, "Bruce! I made a new friend!"

 **There you go! Tell me what ya think!**


	6. Disguise

**AN: Sorry for the wait! I had a bout of writer's block.**

 **I love, love, love reviews! Thanks for the words of encouragement and ideas .**

West sighs as he walks down the street. It's been getting warmer and the first signs of spring are popping up. Flowers here and there, buds in the trees and the first birds he saw in months. It's been a long winter. But strangely, he'll miss the cold and snow. It made Jack happy when the wind tousled his hair and they had snowball fights.

Speaking of Jack… West looked to his left, glancing up at his friend who's been strangely quiet for the past few weeks. He's been distant too, taking whatever chance he can to split up when there's trouble or leaving randomly to 'take care of some stuff'. Of what, the orange head isn't sure, but it worries him. Jack is slowly but surely slipping away, and he knows it, but the white head isn't doing anything about it. West knows it's on purpose, but is afraid of the answer if he asks why. Why is he distancing himself? Is it his fault? Did he do something wrong? Everytime he thinks about it his stomach lurches and the terrifying feeling of being alone again pops into his mind. So he lets it go, slowly but surely watching his brother leaving him to fend for himself.

Jack catches his eye and gives West a small smile. He knows that West noticed his increasing absence, and it breaks his heart to see the kid sad, but it's for the best. He can't continue his selfish wish to stay with the boy who saved him from himself. It would put him in danger, with his powers flaring up in out of control bursts at random times. Who knows when West will get caught in the crossfire?

A little over two weeks ago, when Jack found West outside the abandoned building, freezing to death, he realized just how dangerous the cold was, and how important it was to find a way to suppress this dangerous power.

He needs to find a constraint, maybe even a conduit. But his research is getting him nowhere. The only people with ice based powers that he heard of were super villains, and he doesn't think they would make the best mentors.

No, he needs to branch out more, away from the mainstream database the Justice League kept on on their public file. That would take him into unknown and dangerous territory though, and in order to do that, he needs to distance himself from his brother now, before it's too late.

But of course, West doesn't know any of this, and so he takes Jack's silence as a cue that he doesn't want to be bothered. He drifts into his own thoughts, thinking about the weird kid he met five days ago and the invite he gave him to his party. He didn't tell Jack any of what happened, he didn't think he wanted to hear it, seeing as how he was so distracted with other things. He isn't sure he wants to go at all but Richard did give him money, enough for a plane ticket and a lot more, plus his phone number.

He feels pretty bad about keeping the money a secret, but makes up for it by buying a heap load of food for them to share in the abandoned apartment building they officially made their home. Jack keeps asking him where he got it but West waves off the questions, saying it was just luck and leaving it at that.

But there's one thing he needs to talk to Jack about that can't wait any longer. He stops walking and Jack looks back at him quizzically.

"I think I need a disguise." West declares. Jack nods, not looking too surprised. They've been discussing what could be done about the pesky Rogues and their ever increasing attempts at recruiting him into their ranks. They talked about a disguise but never followed through with the idea.

"Okay, what do you have in mind?" Jack asks. The shorter boy frowns. Before, Jack would've been joking around, throwing around ideas from a pirate to the Easter bunny. But now…

West sighs again. He's been doing that a lot lately.

"A wig and contacts...?" It ends up as a question, like West was asking for permission. Jack frowns in thought, then smiles and nods.

"Yeah, that'll work." He says and continued walking. He looks at the sunset, then turns to West.

"Hey, I've got to take care of some stuff," another sigh from the speedster, "do you think you'll be alright until tomorrow?"

West nods. "Yeah, I'll just get the things for my disguise."

Jack's already jogging down the block and waving. "Cool! Be careful though, don't talk to strangers and don't do anything I would do! Stay out of trouble!" And he's gone.

Aster looks up when he hears a ' _ding_ ', signaling someone coming into the store.

A child with orange hair and ragged clothes walks in, looking around before heading to where the Australian is studying behind the counter.

"Do you sell contact lenses here?" the kid asks. Aster stares at him for a beat longer than usual before pointing towards aisle six. "Thanks," he says.

Aster goes back to studying for his midterm, while keeping one eye on the customer. The more he observes the child, the more certain he becomes that he's homeless. Jack's acts of the thievery makes him increasingly wary, and he isn't sure how many chances he'd get before he was fired for another mishap.

West knows he's being watched, but for once he doesn't have a care about that. He has money to pay for what he needs. He actually forgot how that felt like for a while. How sad…

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the Australian, suddenly right behind him, "you looking for anything, mate?"

Whipping around so fast, Aster marvels at how the kid doesn't get whiplash. The orange- head hasn't moved in a while, so Aster got worried that maybe the kid was trying to swipe something.

The child shakes his head, pauses, then nods. "I can't find the contacts."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the Aster leans over and picks up the lens that were directly in front of West's face. Blushing in embarrassment over his oversight, he snatchedsit from the employee's hands and makes his way to the counter.

Aster rings up the item. "$20.97" Taking out a wad of cash that makes his his go wide, the college student took the two twenties and gave the kid the appropriate change.

West pauses in his exit "Do you sell wigs here?" Aster raises an eyebrow, and points to aisle four.

West walks over to where he was directed and stares at the assortment of hairstyles before shaking his head in astonishment. _Wow,_ he thinks, _this store has everything…_ But the more he thought about it, the more he's doubting the idea that a wig would do the trick. What if it falls off while he's running? Or what if he loses it? The thought of it makes him snort out a laugh before covering it up with a cough. Uh oh, the employee's staring at him again.

Ignoring the inquisitive look he's getting from him, West walks back over to the counter. "Umm, do you sell hair dye?" This time Aster openly stares at the kid, making him shuffle his feet in discomfort. He points at aisle two. "Thanks."

Rushing over and figuring that he's spent more than his fair share in the convenience store (that has been _very_ convenient) he picks out brown, back, and yellow hair dye and places it on the counter. "$17.82" West gives him the money, gets his change and starts to turn to walk out the door before he catches a glance at what the Australian is studying and pauses.

He doesn't mean to, but ever since food became such an important part of his life, he couldn't help but appreciate how it's made and prepared. That's one of the reasons why he knew that Nicholas St. North was a chef. He keeps track of this sort of thing. His mouth moves faster than his brain.

"Are you studying to become a chef?" He asks.

Aster is surprised by the question but gives a little smile and nods. "That's right."

West looks at him and notices that this is a good subject to ask about. Maybe it's because he made a new friend only a few days before, or because it's a good idea to know someone who works with one of the things he most desperately needs to survive (especially with his… condition) but he takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the Australian.

How very out of character.

"So, you're in college right?" He asks.

"Yeah," Aster replies.

"Are you an exchange student?"

"Yeah. Second year."

"What kind of chef do you want to be?"

Aster's eyes light up. "A patissier. Specializing in chocolates."

West's mouth waters involuntarily. "That's really cool." He hasn't had chocolate in years.

The phone rings on the employee's desk and the Australian picks it up. "Hello?" A pause. "Ah, hey Sheila. Yeah we're having the meeting the day after tomorrow." West could hear the excited, high pitched squeals on the other end. "Yeah, it's been a while. I wanted to have it sooner but everyone has different schedules." Aster glances at West before saying, "Hold on a sec," and asking if the boy needs anything else.

Suddenly feeling like he's imposing, West shakes his head no and hefts up his bag of things, turning to leave. He remembers that he forgot an important detail to their exchange. "I'm West by the way."

The college student nods in acknowledgement and holds his head high, obviously very proud of who he was. "Aster."

West nods his good bye and leaves the store.

It's only when he's out the door and a few paces away that he stops in his tracks and wonders why in the world he would start a conversation with _anyone,_ much less a stranger.

All the while, Aster ponders over the strange boy was and shrugs his shoulders. It certainly isn't the strangest thing he's seen in Central City.

"Bunny? Are you still there?" Aster turns his attention back to his phone.

"Yeah, I'm here. Did you talk to Sandy lately?" The woman on the phone answers in the negative and continues on her rant that they never got together anymore, clearly anticipating their Guardian meeting in a couple of days.

Jack stands alone in a forest, miles away from the border of the city. He looks around to make sure no one is lurking before kneeling in the melting snow, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

He feels his power bubbling up in his chest. The ice creeps along his arms, down his back, and over his legs. He grits his teeth as he tries to contain it. It's getting painful now, and he knows he can't hold on for much longer.

Right when the pain gets too close to comfort around his heart, he decides it's time to let go and, with a scream, covers the area with snow and ice. Frost glazing over the new flowers that just grew, Jack looks at them and frowns in frustration.

Panting in exhaustion Jack collapses face first to the ground. It's not improving at all! There's no way to contain it, it's almost as if his powers are a rebellious child. You can't rein it in and it's all trial and error.

He's been trying for weeks and there's no way he can suppress the cold within him.

It starts out the same everyday. Thoughts of ' _Maybe today will be different'_ would pop up and they would be torn down by his failed attempts. The hopeless desperation would wash over him like a wave before pure unadulterated panic joins the group. That maybe his powers are too dangerous for this world and maybe he should just leave this world altogether.

And then he wishes that he kept holding it in when the pain reached his heart because he knew it would all end if he did.

Then he feels ashamed, because as much as Jack's pushing West away, he's still his brother, and he couldn't leave him.

But today is different. Instead of the regular panic coming in and crashing the emotional party, determination takes its place.

 _Okay,_ Jack thinks, _if I can't suppress it, I'll just have to control it._

He stands up and begins his walk over to the city. _I have to find a conduit._

 **Welp, there ya go! This chapter was kind of setting the stage for the next. Tell what you don't and do like about it.**

 **Next chapter: The party. YAY!**


	7. On His Way

Jack woke up with a groan and a massive headache, no doubt from his unsuccessful attempts in finding a conduit the day before. He caught a look at himself in the mirror and his eyes widened in shock. It looked like he got in a fight. He knew it'd be bad but not _this_ bad!

There were bruises blossoming all over his skin. He touched his head and immediately recoiled with a hiss. It felt like one big bruise. Dark bags were under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. There were cuts all along his body from when the failed conduits blew up. He felt something dripping from his nose and tried to wipe it away, his hand came away red with blood. Grabbing one of his tattered shirts that were more like pieces of cloth now, he pinched his nose until the bleeding stopped.

While he did this he lifted his shirt and saw a large bruise forming above his belly button. However, it seemed different from his other injuries. When he touched it it was ice cold and numb. He wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not and he thought back, trying to remember when it started to form.

 _He started off with something simple, a pine cone, which promptly exploded in his face. From there he got the hint and tried to find something sturdier in the trash, but nothing worked._

 _It was hard finding a balance. After every attempt, he had to catch his breath. It was like being hollowed out and overfilled over and over again while simultaneously being punched from the inside out. If he put in too much power they exploded, too little and they iced over, shattering immediately._

 _He will admit, it was better than trying to contain his powers. He didn't feel like he was dying, but it was still incredibly uncomfortable and painful. He spent all day working on it and eventually passed out from exhaustion and pain. He woke up to the wind blowing snow in his face. It was pitch black outside, and he quickly ran back to the abandoned apartment building to find West sleeping soundly with his hair dyed a deep black._

 _Reassured and tired, Jack passed out again._

Jack wasn't sure what to think. Containing his powers seemed to be more dangerous in the short term, but in the long term, trying to share his powers with an inanimate object might be even worse… He felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

By the time his nose stopped bleeding, he'd come to a conclusion that finding a conduit was the most promising option. He probably just needed to find the right item, something that would be in sync with his powers. Yeah, that was probably it…

He looked over and saw West huddled at the other end of the abandoned building. He was still asleep but his arms were crossed over his chest, rubbing his arms furiously in a desperate attempt to catch some warmth. The blanket he had only covered half of his body, leaving the top half exposed to the elements with nothing but a tattered t-shirt to shelter him with.

Jack quickly stood up, grimacing at the exertion, and walked over, draping his own blanket over the speedster. West's eyes snapped open in surprise, he stared at his brother in confusion. "Jack?" he asked, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, "when did you come back?"

After he went to the store, West came back to the abandoned building and spent the rest of that day and the next trying different combinations that might work for his disguise. Using a large broken mirror he found in the trash, he finally settled on turning his hair from the bright orange it was before to a temporary, midnight black. Luckily he grabbed the semi- permanent hair color, so it would only last for about "four to eight shampoo washes" (which for him, would be about six to twelve weeks, considering his lack of proper facilities). After he managed his disguise he went to the phone booth and called Richard, only for his _butler_ (the kid had a butler!) to pick up the phone.

 _West tapped his foot restlessly as the phone rang and had to stop himself when he caught himself going faster than he intended. That's been happening a lot lately, he's been going faster than usual and was starting to get worried. Before he could ponder it any further, a British voice came on the line, "Hello? Wayne residence. How may I be of assistance?"_

" _Um, is Richard there?"_

 _A pause. "He is not at the moment. Who am I speaking with?"_

 _Shuffling his feet, he said nervously, "It's West. I'm sorry I think I have the wrong num-"_

" _Ah, West! Master Dick has spoken about you. Will you be coming to his birthday party?"_

" _Wait, Dick? You mean Richard, right?"_

" _Yes sir, Master Dick was wondering when you would call."_

" _Really?" That brought a surprised smile to West's face. Then the man's words caught up with him. "Master Dick? Are you like a butler or something?"_

 _An amused chuckle was heard over the phone, "I am not_ like _a butler, but I_ am _the butler, sir."_

 _West paused, slightly uncomfortable. Was Richard rich? The name Wayne rang a few bells but he couldn't put his finger on where he'd heard it before._

 _As if sensing the boy's discomfort, the Butler added, "You made quite the impression on him."_

 _West was speechless. He never considered himself important enough to make an impression on anybody, let alone a kid he met in such a short amount of time._

 _As nervous as he was, he was excited to see his new friend. So he said,"Well, tell him I'll be there. I might be a little late though. Can I bring a friend?"_

" _Certainly, I'll pick you up at the airport if you'd like. The streets of Gotham can be quite hard to navigate around."_

" _That would be awesome! Thank you, Mr…."_

" _Alfred."_

" _Thanks, Mr. Alfred. Our flight should get there at around four thirty."_

" _Okay, I will meet you there. Good day." And he hung up._

After the phone call, West went back to the hideout only to find that Jack still hadn't come home. Eventually, he had no choice but to fall into a restless sleep.

West saw as Jack frowned in guilt, rubbing the back of his head and wincing at the contact. This did not go unnoticed, and like a switch turned on in his head West suddenly looked so much more awake. Looking over the snow-haired teen, West could see bruises all over his face, arms, and legs, with cuts littering his blue and black skin, he looked like he's been through hell.

"Jack, what happened?" The boy in question looked away and tried to find an excuse for his beat up appearance and late arrival. He didn't want to tell the kid he went looking for a stupid conduit only to find out that, every freaking time he tried to contain his powers in an inanimate object, it backlashed with a vengeance.

"I… got jumped."

West didn't look convinced. "How?"

"Well, I was just… jumped, I guess. This group of idiots pushed me into an alley and asked me for money I didn't have. I guess they thought using me as a punching bag was payment enough." Jack smiled and shrugged, both proud and ashamed at the ease in which the story was created.

The young speedster frowned in what looked to Jack like disappointment.

"Jack…" But then West shook his head, and whatever was going to be said wasn't. Instead, he told him, "I was invited to a birthday party."

"What?" Jack asked.

West stood up and stretched out his legs. He reached into the shopping bag that contained his contacts. He settled on brown. "Yeah, I ran into this kid and now we're, um, friends. I think. And he invited me to his party. That's today…"

The eleven-year-old looked nervous at the mention of making a friend, and Jack couldn't help but smile. West usually wasn't the sociable type. "OK, are you going to go?"

The kid laughed nervously, rubbing his chocolate colored eyes, "Yeah, about that… it's in Gotham."

Jack just stared at him. How the heck did he manage to make a friend from halfway across the country?

Guessing what he was thinking he quickly elaborated on where he met the kid and the events leading up to the invitation. "So, yeah, he gave me some money and his number. Enough for a plane ticket and everything! But apparently, you have to either have a guardian sign you in as an unaccompanied minor or have someone legally old enough to ride on the plane with you and well…" He looked at Jack imploringly and Jack couldn't help being impressed at how well planned out this all was, he knew West was a smart kid but his independent nature always seemed to catch the teenager off guard.

That's when the boy's words processed in his brain. No, he wasn't asking… "No way," Jack said. Gotham? Of all places? Even with the bat watching over the city it was still too dangerous for a couple of kids to wander the place by themselves. And with the way he was feeling, it was a wonder how he was functioning at all.

He was adamant on not going… But then West gave those annoyingly sad puppy dog eyes along with a few thousand pleases and finally got a loud, "Alright! Fine! When are we leaving?" as a reward.

With a wide grin, West (the cheeky little brat) happily told him the next flight leaves soon and they better hurry up if they want to catch it.

Jack cursed and started to pack what little belongings they had into a ratty old backpack. Although spontaneity quickly became a recurring theme of their time on the streets, this was a bit much. He looked over at West and saw that the boy was still smiling. _Then again,_ Jack thought, _It's not everyday that West decides to make a new friend…_

After everything was packed, they hailed a taxi and were on their way to the airport.

West was still in shock that Jack actually agreed in going. He was half expecting the teen to put up more of a fight considering how distant they were becoming. Looking at Jack, West couldn't help but wonder what really happened to him. He looked exhausted, a little part of him felt bad about dragging his friend to a party when he was this bad off, but another, bigger part of him felt relieved. He could watch him better this way, to make sure he's really okay.

When they arrived at the airport, they didn't have anything but the clothes on their backs and a backpack filled with some money and food. That saved enough time for them to make their flight.

The lady at the check-in desk raised an eyebrow when the bruised, snow-haired teen claimed to be his big brother but let them through nonetheless. West was amazed at how smoothly the whole thing went, and soon they were on the plane waiting for takeoff.

The seatbelt sign came on and they buckled up, looking out the window in anticipation when the plane started moving.

Their eyes widened when the plane suddenly lurched forward and a few seconds later they were in the air, rapidly gaining altitude.

"Woah…" West said in awe. The cars below were becoming like ants and the clouds were getting closer by the minute. "Jack! Jack, look!" West grabbed Jack's hand as they flew through the clouds, emerging above them and rising until they looked like a sea of fluffy white.

Jack smiled at his younger brother as he watched the clouds. Eventually, confusion took its place. This seemed so familiar, did he ever fly in a plane before he met West?

The seatbelt sign came off and the younger said he had to go to the bathroom, leaving Jack to continue staring at the clouds. A nostalgic longing settled into his being, like he belonged out there, through the blue sky with the cold wind ruffling his hair. He could hear her now, _let's play Jack. Let's play a new game! South and East want to play tag!_

Wait, her? Wind was just the wind. And how could he imagine the voice so clearly, as if… he heard her… before…

Jack's head exploded in pain and the plane shook with the wind. "We are experiencing some turbulence, please remain seated until further notice." The passengers murmured and laughed nervously, a little kid started crying, West quickly arrived at his seat.

"Hey, this is some crazy- are you okay?" He looked at his big brother and saw him clutching his head. Beads of sweat falling down his face and his eyes scrunched up in pain.

The teenager managed to give a nod as images of flying and playing with the wind flooded his mind. Flying through war, flying through the snow. Untouched by time and always flying, but no one can see! No one can-

Suddenly the images went away along with the sharp migraine that accompanied it. By now the passengers were becoming panicked as the plane was rocked with the wind. But when the flashes of endless flying ended, so did the turbulence and the airliner settled.

"Jack! Jack, are you alright?!" he turned to the side and saw his little brother looking at him with concern, "Are you still in pain? Do you want me to call someone?"

"No, no, I'm alright!" Jack said, trying to offer a smile that looked more like a grimace. West didn't look convinced but didn't call him out on it. Instead, he stopped a flight attendant and asked for some water, which was promptly delivered.

"Here," he said, Jack took it gratefully and settled back into his chair.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Three o'clock."

Jack almost spit out his water, he's been like that for over half an hour…

"Are you sure you're alright?" West asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little headache." Wow, the orange head wasn't even pretending to buy that lie, "Hey, look at this! They've got some movies here…"

While he chatted away at the different kinds of films, his mind was on what he saw. _What was that?_ Jack thought, _Was it from his past? It hurt, it was so lonely._

 _So unbearably lonely._

West allowed himself to be distracted while keeping an eye on Jack. He looked like he was in so much pain, he would have called someone if they weren't trying to keep a low cover. He kept mumbling too as if he was pleading with some invisible force. He only caught a little bit but what he did hear sent shivers down his spine. " _Why am I here? Why won't they see me?!"_

" _Why won't you let me die?"_

* * *

 **A/N: Expect more to come shortly!**


	8. The Beginning of a Very Long Evening

"Bunny!" the young Indian woman practically bowled down the Australian as she ran into North's workshop where the meeting would commence. She was followed by a short, blond haired man, who tipped his hat and walked through the doorway.

"Hey Tooth, Sandy," he greeted his old friends.

Tooth looked around the room, "Where's North?"

"He has a job to take care of, he said he'll come through by video chat though."

"Oh Bunny! It's been so long! How are your studies coming along?"

Bunny smiled, "Almost done! I'm trying to get my degree in three years by doing the summer and winter courses."

"We're all so proud of you! And I heard North made an offer…?"

"Yeah, he said if I want a job to jumpstart my career, he'd be willing to help me out. I'm thinking about taking him up on the offer."

"How excit-" Tooth's phone rang and she picked it up, "Hello? … Yes, deliver it to Brandy Street…"

Bunny sighed, there she goes again. How one person could have the energy to do all the things Tooth is responsible for is beyond him. He turns to Sandy, "So, how have ya been, mate? How are the kids?"

'Good, Jamie, his sister, and Billy were adopted this week, and I got 2 more coming in from the local fire that happened last month. Poor kids,' Sandy signed. Aster sighed, he'd heard about the fire that orphaned two siblings. At least they ended up in Sandy's Home for Children and not some run-down orphanage. They'll be okay there.

Tooth hung up and turned to her companions. "Sorry, that was Baby Tooth, apparently a shipment of braces came in and it was the wrong sizes so I had to take care of it. So, what brought this meeting about Bunny?"

"A few weeks ago, Jack came to the store-"

"Jack? You mean that teenager you always complain about?"

"Yeah, anyways he was tryin' to steal some food when-"

He paused when his cell phone rang, "Hello?...Yeah, we got in okay, thanks for the spare key, mate… Yeah, okay." He hung up. Opening up his laptop, he signed into Skype and soon North's grinning face was staring back at them. "Hello, friends! How're ya on this fine day?" They exchanged pleasantries and got back to business. He told the story of how the white haired teen tried to steal food, how he caught the little thief and the strange events that happened upon his capture.

'So, he's a metahuman?' Sandy signed.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's something else."

North rubbed his shaggy beard, "Strange, very strange, what do you think it could be?"

"I don't know! He just didn't feel completely 'human' when he used his powers. And it didn't look like he could control them either."

Their faces shifted to varying degrees of worry and shock. If the teen couldn't control his powers…

Tooth pursed her lips, "Should we tell the League?"

Aster quickly shook his head, "No, I have a feeling this should be a guardian problem."

'So, Manny?' Sandy signed.

"Yeah, let's bring it to him, get his take on it." Although he wasn't sure if it would do much good, their mysterious benefactor doesn't talk to them unless he deems it important, and he's been silent for almost a year now.

A crash suddenly sounded from North's end, "Dick, no pastries until the food comes out!" A cackling laugh sounded in the background as the chef shook his head.

"I have to go, the party will begin soon. Let me know what Manny says, da?" He looked to be about to sign out when he remembered something, "Oh! Almost forgot, I got an apprentice!"

"Oh! Who is it North?" Tooth practically floated in the air at the mention of one of her friends gaining an apprentice. She's been suggesting they all get one after she found Baby tooth.

"Janus, my niece! A few weeks ago there was an incident at the workshop and I realized how important it is to have someone else to depend on in my business. Say hello Janus."

A brown haired, brown eyed girl came on the screen holding a cream covered spoon, "Nice to meet you," she said, then she ducked out of view.

"Bah! She's shy, I really have to go- Dick, put. Down. The cake- good bye, my friends." The screen went black.

'I have to go as well, the kids will be coming home from school soon and Nancy is watching over one of the girls, who's sick. Tell me what happens Aster.' They bid farewell and soon Tooth said she had to go to an appointment leaving just Aster in North's mansion.

The Australian huffed out a breath and walked out the door, locking it behind him, it's time to pay Manny a visit.

* * *

The phone rang and Bruce picked it up. "Hello?" He said.

"Hey, Bruce!" The voice on the other end was strained, winded, and undoubtedly familiar.

"Flash? Why are you calling my home?"

"Wow, thank's for the warm greeting! I- oof _!_ " There was a distinct sound of bodies hitting metal before the Flash spoke again. "I might be a little late."

"Do you need backup?"

"No, no, I'm- damn it!" Another crash "-I'm good!"

Bruce pulled up his location and found that he was in a docking warehouse on the south side of Central City.

"Flash, I'm sending backup."

"No! I'm almost done here, don't bother."

Bruce frowned but didn't push the issue, he only said, "What time do you plan to get here?"

"Around five." Another punch sounded through the phone. "Yeah, I'm gonna call you back."

Bruce promptly hung up the phone, not wanting to distract the hero from whatever fight he found himself in now. He heard the cackling laugh of his ward in the kitchen accompanied with Nicholas' yells. Deciding to help the poor chef out, he got up and made his way to his resident troublemaker. He could already tell, this was going to be a long evening.

* * *

"Jack! Wake up!" Jack groggily looked up at his young companion and saw everyone out of their seat, taking down their carry on bags from the top compartments. "We're here!"

They got out of their seats and followed the others off the plane, Jack grabbed their lone backpack on the way off. "Mr. Alfred said he'd be picking us up, so no worries about how to get there."

Jack just nodded while West frowned, he's been out of it since the incident on the flight.

"Who's Alfred?" Jack asked suddenly.

"Huh? Oh, I'm pretty sure he's Richard's butler or something."

Jack's eyes cleared a bit, "Wait, he has a butler? Is he rich?"

West nodded, not wanting to get into that topic. He's still not sure how Richard would feel about having a homeless kid at his party. Sure, he invited him and they are friends (he thinks... maybe) but still…

They looked through the crowd, spotting a lean, balding man with a gray mustache holding a sign that said simply, "West". They made their way over.

"...Mr. Alfred?" West asked, and the butler nodded and smiled.

"You must be West, and you are…" he addressed the skinny, bruised, white haired teen behind him.

"Jack, nice to meet you."

"Likewise, follow me."

Outside, a sleek black car was waiting for them in the parking lot. He held the door open for Master Dick's friend and guest before moving to the driver's side.

Pulling out of the parking space and away from the airport, he glanced at them through the mirror. West kept looking between the teen and the car window, the concern never leaving his face. The butler could understand why.

Jack didn't look good at all, he was blinking too slowly like he was trying not to fall asleep and a wince escaped his defenses every now and again. His hand alternated between rubbing his head and his ribs as if he couldn't decide which hurt more.

"Sir, are you alright?" Alfred asked, the boy dropped his hand from his head and said a quick and slightly slurred, "I'm fine, thanks," before offering a smile and leaning back in his seat.

Jack was no fool. He knew that the little episode he had on the plane affected him negatively, to say the least. It was like a flip was switched. He felt more drained and bruised than before and it was getting worse by the minute. He was starting to get worried.

West rubbed his eyes in frustration at his friend's insistence that he was 'fine.' Would it kill him to ask for help?

A little voice in his mind called him a hypocrite, which he promptly told to shut up.

Alfred decided to make small talk with West, which was returned with curious questions about Gotham and its local hero. He asked how Richard was and what some of the passing buildings were.

* * *

"Is he here yet?" Dick asked as he glanced out the window. Bruce sighed for the thousandth time. His son, er, ward, has been asking the same question for the past hour.

"No, not yet. You'll know when you see Alfred pull into the driveway." Dick didn't seem satisfied with that answer and continued o look outside. Bruce glanced at Clark and the man of steel responded with a reassuring nod.

Walking up to the boy, he picked him up and carried him to the rest of the party guests saying, "I'm sure he will be here soon, in the meantime Uncle Hal got you a present!" Dick laughed in delight, momentarily distracted by his friend's absence.

Bruce was looking at the driveway with a critical eye, waiting for the mysterious stranger to arrive at his gate. He tried to research about the kid but came up nearly empty. He had to admit, the boy was good at trying to not exist.

Almost. But they don't call Bruce paranoid for nothing.

After some further digging, he got a hit.

Dick was right, the boy was undoubtedly homeless. Some security footage from the streets of Central City revealed the dingy little hideout he frequents, an abandoned apartment building that looks like it'd fall apart any second, along with a white haired teen. He suspects that this is the "guest" he will be bringing.

He can't very well leave a boy that Dick befriended out on the streets, but he has to know what he's dealing with before he can move forward. There were no missing child reports for the name "West," which implies that he's using an alias.

He'll have to interrogate- erm, he means question- "West" to get more information.

He spots a familiar black limousine approaching the mansion and moves to open the door.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the mansion, Alfred decided he liked the young boy. His friend was impressively still awake, although he looked like he was about to collapse. As they pulled up to the gate West saw a tall dark haired man standing in the massive doorway. West suddenly went quiet and asked the butler in a small voice. "Who's that?"

Alfred, taken aback by the sudden change in behavior responded carefully, "That's Master Bruce Wayne. Dick's guardian." West said nothing. He was still wary of big imposing men like Mr. Wayne. All he could think about was how hard the man must be able to hit, being that intimidating on first sight.

Jack shifted closer to West in silent support, even in his hazy state he knew what West was thinking. West smiled at Jack in appreciation as the car pulled up to the front door.

Mr. Wayne looked down at the young boy in surprise. Dick said he had the "brightest orange hair" he'd ever seen, and "green, green eyes! Like Uncle Hal's ring." This young man had midnight black hair and brown eyes. He observed closer and spotted evidence of the hair being dyed, with patches of orange peeking out from the botched job on the top of his head. There was a light ring around the eyes that told Bruce the boy was wearing contact lenses. The kid was so skinny it was concerning. He wore baggy jeans and a red t- shirt. The shoes looked new though, a stark contrast to the rest of his outfit. He was hiding behind the white haired teen.

He turned to the teen behind the boy and he frowned darkly. The young man was also worryingly thin, with a ragged blue hoodie and a loose pair of brown joggers. The worrying part was how beat up he looked. Bruises blossomed his skin and he was obviously in pain. Hugging his ribs he walked up to Bruce first and held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, sir, my name is Jack and this is my friend, West." Jack ignored the shocked looks behind him. He could be courteous if he wanted to. He knows a man in charge when he sees one. Usually, he wouldn't go out of his way like this but it was his little brother's friend's father. He was doing this for him.

Bruce put on a smile, took the hand gingerly and hid his surprise at the kid's introduction. "Mr. Wayne. " He held out his other hand for West to shake but West flinched back like he was holding a knife. Bruce's smile dimmed almost imperceptively. He'll have to investigate further later. For now, he just dropped the extended hand and said, "Dick has been waiting for you two. Come on in."

"Weeeeessst!" One foot inside and the homeless boy was tackled by the billionaire's ward. West laughed and all his worries from before disappeared. Behind them, the butler and Bruce laughed along with others from inside.

"Richard!"

"What happened to your hair?" West's eyes widened. He forgot about his change in appearance.

"I dyed it."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see how it would look."

"And your eyes? They were green before."

"Oh, these are contacts!" West gingerly took them off, switching the midnight black to the bright green eyes underneath.

"Why?"

West's mind went blank so he shrugged non-committedly.

Dick stared at the boy for a moment longer than normal before saying, "Oh, okay." He didn't believe his lie but went on to who his friend brought with him.

"Who are you?"

"Jack."

"What happened to you?"

Ah, the question everyone was wondering but only the child would ask. The room seemed to stop and everyone turned to the teen in question.

Jack wasn't prepared to answer questions when he agreed to go to this party. He panicked slightly and came up with, "...I fell…" Dick looked at him, wondering if he was kidding, and opened his mouth to call him out when West decided to come to the rescue.

"Wow Richard, your house is huge." And huge it was, honestly it looked more like a castle or hotel than an actual house. Outside it was a tall and wide stone building with pillars holding up the front while inside there was a large room adorned with books and a large fountain. A mix of a library and a ball room.

"Thanks." The boy mumbled, "Come on, let me introduce you to my guests."

Jack watched as West ran off with the raven haired child while leaning on the doorway. West looked over his shoulder to make sure his brother was okay and Jack nodded at him reassuringly. His ribs were aching and the effort it was taking to contain his powers was making it worse. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, closing his eyes. Was it just him or was it getting hotter in here? Groaning in discomfort, he said down on a nearby couch and put his head in his hands. He felt like he was punched by a very angry boxer.

"Son, are you okay?" an all American black haired, blue eyed man came forward, his eyes sweeping the teen with growing worry.

Jack sighed, he really wished people would stop asking that. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

The man pushed up his glasses and gave him a stern look. "No, your not. Now, I'm not going to ask what happened, but you really should get checked out. It's obvious you can barely hold yourself up, at least make sure you don't have a concussion." If the way the boy slurred his words are any indication, the man is pretty sure he does.

"You're not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?"

The man smiled, "Nope, just a little check up. Won't even take ten minutes."

Jack nodded hesitantly and followed Alfred to the back room. The other guests looked after them, giving the blue eyed man an approving nod and mutters saying, "Good job Clark."

Clark looked worriedly at the sluggish boy following Alfred to the medical room. He has a lot of injuries, he really should be in a hospital but he doubts anything he could say would convince the boy to go.

West saw his brother move to the room with the butler and let out a relieved breath. Then he turned to Richard who was dragging him to the man the teen was just talking to, "West, Uncle Clark. Uncle Clark, West."

The man smiled and nodded politely at the boy while West instinctively shrunk back, and couldn't help the flinch when a hand was reached out to shake. They both frowned at this but Clark tried to contain a smile, "Nice to meet you."

The man smiled and nodded politely at the boy while West instinctively shrunk back, and couldn't help the flinch when a hand was reached out to shake. They both frowned at this but Clark tried to contain a smile, "Nice to meet you."

West mumbled a "you too" while trying to subtly hide behind Richard.

Dick started a conversation, trying to keep them both in the loop while West avoided looking at the big man. His mind kept wandering to how much it would hurt if he ever got punched by him. He decided to stay out of arm's reach and closer to Richard, just in case.

Clark's nagging voice in the back of his head told him to investigate what the child's occasional winces and outright fear could mean.

Before he could, Richard moved away from the man and dragged his friend to other party goers. The boy's smile has dimmed as he realized that he really didn't know much about his friend except that, well, they were friends. He's going to have to change that.

West didn't miss how Richard skimmed over the male guests when introducing him while lingering about the female ones, and could tell by the imploring looks he was getting that he was in for an interrogation later.

* * *

In the back room, Alfred's eyes were growing by the minute as he took note of the young teen's injuries.

"...Sir-"

"Please don't ask Alfred."

Alfred kept his mouth shut but couldn't ignore the moans of pain as he prodded Jack's ribs. He sighed, "You've fractured three."

He looked into the teen's eyes with a flashlight, "you have a slight concussion, your back is severely bruised as well."

Jack nodded and thanked the man, attempting to get off of the medical table and failing miserably when his knees buckled from underneath him. Alfred caught him right before his face met the floor, and it was then that he noticed how blurry the room was getting, and how it felt like he was slowly but surely being cooked alive. A hand touched his forehead and Jack leaned into the touch, relishing in the slightly cooler temperature.

His eyelids seemed to get heavier and he could vaguely hear Alfred talking to… what was his name? Clark?

Right before he succumbed to the darkness, he could have sworn he heard a voice that sent a jolt of déjà vu and despair through his consciousness,

"Jack, I'm scared."


End file.
